Jungle Musings
by Lord Ares
Summary: An Eldar Ranger's thoughts observing an Imperial patrol. A small part on an idea I have. First fic, feedback appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Rak'ael watched the _Mon'Keigh_ scuttle about their allotted tasks with growing distaste. Her naturally sharp eyesight, enhanced through the scope of her long-rifle, drank in the details below her. She had kept her vigil for half a century on Ipsus now; the Imperium had arrived some thirty years ago. As ever the short-sighted fools were oblivious to the true secrets the jungle guarded so jealously. Their eyes were blinded by greed with the abundance of raw materials the ancient world offered. Crude promethium, the lifeblood of the Imperium's endless war machine. The fools had barely contained their excitement at the vast discovery on such an isolated world. Rak'ael's lip curled in a sneer, had the _Mon'Keigh_ ever stopped to wonder why the world was devoid of sentient life? She doubted they possessed the intelligence to ponder such thoughts.

She watched with minimal interest as a detachment of the Imperium's soldiers arrived in their armoured convoy. The ramps of their transports lowered and the soldiers of the Imperium, her sneer grew more pronounced at this sight, swaggered into view. _Such arrogance _she thought. These _Monk'Keigh_ carried themselves like true masters of their trade, an utterly laughable notion to Rak'ael. She would not deny that these particular troopers seemed far more capable than those she had encountered on her long journey on the path of the outcast. Their weapon stocks and handles were well-worn with service, yet in pristine condition despite the environment. They were, for _Mon'Keigh_, in excellent physical condition and towered over their civilian counterparts; showing no discomfort at the tropical temperature. By comparison the civilian workforce sweated and panted in the heat as they oversaw operations at this particular well site. As the Guardsmen broke into their assigned squads and began to filter into the jungle on their routine patrol routes they continued to call out loudly to one another, their harsh guttural language interrupted by bouts of bawdy laughter.

Rak'ael packed up her rifle and displaced into the jungle to tail one of the groups. Flitting through the high branches of the trees soundlessly, she easily kept pace with the Troopers creeping through the jungle below. The Guardsmen had now fanned out and, she supposed, exercised a noise discipline that was laughably ineffective against her sharp hearing. Rak'ael marvelled at their strange attempts to blend into the jungle. Whilst their uniforms were of a green that matched the background colours, their insistence on exposing their arms, and in some cases legs, as well as wearing bright strips of material around their heads, defeated any notion of camouflage. And they _reeked_. Rac'ael's heightened senses could smell their disgusting unwashed bodies, along with lingering traces of the harsh spirits they had imbued the night before. The sharp tang of the concoction they either lit and inhaled or chewed and spat everywhere, also hung heavy about the troopers. The Guardsmen did, she allowed, seem at home in the jungle. They moved in a relaxed manner but were clearly alert and maintained tight movement patterns. They had, however, no hope of detecting the highly experienced Ranger hanging above them. _They are, after all, only human_ Rak'ael mused to herself with a thin smile,

Rak'ael tailed them for half their patrol route. She had memorised their patrol patterns, which altered very rarely, so knew how long it would take them to complete their sweep. In truth she had no need to tail these particular _Mon'Keigh_, they were thousands of miles from the Valley she and her fellow Rangers guarded so vigilantly. For all of Rak'ael's sharp criticism and scorn she could not help but be curious of the _Mon'Keigh_. They strutted about with a confidence and vision of purpose that was as fascinating as it was amusing to behold. Rak'ael had seen great feats of heroism displayed by them, acts of selfishness and kindness that could almost raise her hopes for their species. Invariably their utter lack of sense and complete stupidity would soon quash any such notion. Along with their rampant xenophobia, slavish devotion to a corpse machine construct and ruthless exploitation of everything in their path.

Rak'ael had stopped to muse on these thoughts and observe the beauty of the jungle around her, when a very soft chime in her ear alerted her to an incoming communication. Quickly reassessing her surroundings to make sure she was quite alone, she opened the channel. She instantly recognised the voice of Makdran, the Ranger's leader on Ipsus.

_"Sister, you are to return to the King of Mountains immediately. There has been a grave development."_


	2. Chapter 2

Hi all. Thanks for all the views and feedback for the first part of Jungle Musings. Just so everyone is aware these two chapters are parts I have been working on for a much bigger story. As this is my first fic I've posted these two short teasers to get feedback on whether I'm getting everything right. This chapter focuses on a Guard platoon. I hasten to add these troopers are certainly _not _the Catachans from the previous chapter! This scene would take place much later in the story than the previous entry. This will probably be the last addition until I have completed my story. If you are enjoying and wish for more, I am currently around 10,000 words at the moment so the story is definitely underway! Any feedback, as ever, much appreciated!

Jungle Musings

Bravo Company's fourth platoon was strung out in a staggered formation order of march down the trail. It was their rotation to spearhead the Imperial advance through this hellish jungle. They had been on the move since 0600 hours, and the steadily heating jungle sapped at their strength. The troopers were tired and dripped with sweat; the sun was fast approaching its zenith. The undulating lay of the land combined with the heavy foliage that invariably required hacking back, seemed unending. Third squad were on point; they were seasoned soldiers, and they knew the importance of their job, however they had missed the mines. In their defence, the mines were strung up high in the trees, but this did not detract from their lethality. They detonated with loud screeches, firing thousands of poisonous splinters down carefully planned vectors. Fifth and fourth squad simply ceased to exist as military units. Twenty men, wiped from the face of the planet in less than a blink of the eye, leaving a gaping space between third squad and first and second. Shredded bodies and twisted equipment were all that showed their passing. The ringing silence that followed was quickly filled with the experienced bellows of the sergeants and corporals ordering the remainder of the platoon into some semblance of a defensive position. Dazed troopers stumbled about the trail, rifles snapping back and forth. Confusion and fear ran rampant.

Lieutenant Ixus cursed softly to himself. He was an experienced officer who had just witnessed a large portion of his men obliterated by xeno trickery. "Serus! Here, now!" he snapped, whilst motioning to his voxcasterman. The trooper rushed to his side trying to keep as low as possible, so far there had been no further contact with the enemy. Serus was silently praying to the Emperor they were alone on the trail as he fumbled for the receiver, handing it to Ixus. The lieutenant checked to make sure first squad's NCO, Corporal Marin, was overseeing the troopers' deployment. Satisfied Marin had the situation in hand, he raised the receiver and managed, "Bravo 1-1, Bravo 1-1, this is Bravo 4-1, conta-" before he found himself flung to his back on the dusty jungle floor. The voxcaster receiver was gone; as was his hand, a bloody sizzling stump where once it had been. Ixus gaped at his arm oblivious of everything else, until Serus appeared above him. "Oh Holy Emp- Medicae! Medicae, over here!" the trooper glanced desperately around, Ixus was starting to convulse, going into shock the trooper assumed. "Medicae! Medicae! Where the frak-". Serus' throat was torn out by the same type of splinter that had removed Ixus' hand. The trooper had time to look surprised that he no longer had a voice; before he tumbled wordlessly to the bloody jungle floor, next to the lieutenant he had been trying to help. His voxcaster was targeted next, riddled with the same splinters, rendering it totally inoperable. Of the five long-range voxcasters in the platoon, three had been neutralised in as many minutes. More splinters began to hiss through the air, troopers either slumped soundlessly to the ground or howled in pain, writhing in the undergrowth. The air began to fill with the shrieks of men in torment.

Staff sergeant Vallox knew he needed to regain control of the situation. He had no idea where the lieutenant was, but he knew if the man were still combat effective he would have been organising the men. That left Vallox as ranking NCO to take control. He spoke quickly, but confidently into his short range microbead "This is Vallox, second squad active, sound off." There was a pregnant pause, fear began to clutch at the staff sergeant when, to his relief, "Third squad, active" came back through the vox. The next transmission quickly undid the staff sergeant's relief. "This is Marin, the LTs gone! Half of first squads dead! Voxcasters frakked!" The panicked corporal's voice blared in the staff sergeant's ears. "Can't see them! They're all around us!" The furious sound of outgoing lasfire, audible anyway through the jungle, was enhanced over the vox. The command squad had been positioned in front of second squad, who had been covering the rear of the platoon. Now that the survivors of first squad were laying down fire in a 360 degree arc; bright, angry and lethal lasfire was beginning to fly over the prone forms of second squad. "Marin! Maintain fire discipline! You're firing on friendlies!" Vallox tried to calm the terrified corporal, but to no effect. A last, garbled response came from Marin. "They're in the trees! Above u-" static played in Vallox's ear, and the line went dead. The sergeant turned to his men who were grim-faced, knuckles white on their weapons.

"Alright boys, targets are using the trees, I want that stopped _right now_." He finished with a snarl. "Let's see if we can provide some cover for first squad. Attius I want that stubber laying down controlled fire, short bursts. Erras get over here with the voxcaster." Second squad snapped into action, Attius began laying down tight bursts of fire, the stubber spitting angry hot rounds into the trees in front, scything away at the surrounding jungle. Whilst Vallox tried raising Bravo One and Captain Reran with Erras the voxcasterman, the remaining seven troopers kept up a constant stream of lasfire to their fronts, their fire elevated. The troopers were well aware of the fact that the remains of the platoon were directly to their front, no one wanted to hit a friendly on top of this disaster. Vallox spared a moment to admire the deft manner in which the xenos' had almost tricked the remains of the platoon into massacring one another in a crossfire of the troopers' own making. The vox receiver crackled in his hand and the sound of an angry Captain Reran came into existence "…avo 4-1, Bravo 4-1, this is Bravo 1-1 sitrep, Throne damn-it! Over!

With great relief Vallox hit the send button "Bravo 1-1, Bravo 1-1 this is Bravo 4-2. Ambush, I say again, ambush. Bravo 4-1 down. Position, grid niner-seven-four by three-two-six, over!"

A moment's pause followed, then "Bravo 4-2, I've got you. Listen up sergeant. You are to reconsolidate the platoon on your pos, then fall back to the blue line at grid niner-seven-three by three-two-fiver. How copy? Over" Vallox scanned his map and saw the river indicated by the Captain, it was half a click away. "Bravo 1-1, Roger your last, over."

"Bravo 4-2, listen carefully. Bravo 2-1 is securing that blue line, you get to that river and you'll have friendlies pouring out cover fire. Get it done sergeant. I'm co-ordinating with Anvil 1-1 now; they'll be in touch when the heavy stuff is set to support you. The Emperor protects, Vallox. Bravo 1-1 over and out."

"Bravo 1-1, roger, The Emperor protects. Bravo 4-2, over and out." Vallox threw the receiver back to Erras who fumbled the catch. The cacophony of gunfire was deafening but Vallox had heard what he wanted to hear. Anvil was the call sign for the Catachan 83 Armoured, specifically their Griffon mortar tank detachment. They would certainly smash the frakking xenos out of the trees.


End file.
